There's always something
by SomeoneOnThisWorld
Summary: Sherlock wanted to find SOMETHING on that Tom fellow. And he did. But it wasn't at all what he expected ... I should've been a sweet and gentle Sherlolly, but now it developed into something so much more :)
1. Chapter 1

He eyed him up and down, trying to find ... _something_.

_Two sisters._

_Engaged. (obviously)_

_Awkward._

_Not very wealthy family._

_Decent education. (but not clever enough to impress Sherlock Holmes)_

_One ... Two cats._

_NOTHING!_

"Hi, I'm Tom," he smiled nicely and shook Sherlock's hand.

_Ah, a smoker!_

_You're a smoker too._

Damn John's voice in his head. Sherlock thought it has disappeared after he and John made up again.

Of course, Tom (_Ha, Tom is short for Thomas – a little embarrassed of our longer name, aren't we? It's like I would be introducing myself as Sherl – ridiculous!_) looked a lot like him, with a long coat, scarf and curly hair.

_"The one person he thought didn't matter at all to me, was the one person, who mattered the most."_

His own words echoed in his mind as he and John walked down the stairs. Only then Sherlock realized how sentimental they sounded. _But ... Were they meant that way?_

"Does he ..."

"Mhm."

"Will you ..."

"I won't say a word," Sherlock promised John on the topic of _Thomas_. And he kept that word ...

* * *

... Until it was unbearable.

"So, what are you planning? A wedding in June? Or a nice spring wedding? Though Mary and John got caught on that idea already," Sherlock commented. Molly looked up and at him across the lab. She blushed as she was noticed eyeing her ring once again.

"Actually, I'm hoping it will be in autumn," she smiled meekly. "Tom doesn't seem thrilled by the idea, but I think ..."

"Autumn is a second spring, when every leaf is a flower," Sherlock cut her off.

"What?"

"Albert Camus," he explained. "Not really my preferred style of writing, but I imagine you would enjoy it."

"As always, you're right," Molly giggled. "I actually know the quote, I have it written below my father's painting of a landscape in autumn. He looked up to Camus and got me hooked up on him as well. Before he died, it was nice to talk to someone who understands Albert Camus."

Her smiled faded, but just a little, as she was unable to hide the sadness that crept up on her. And Sherlock immediately understood it wasn't because of her father.

_She always smiles even more brightly at the mention of her father._

"Tom doesn't," he stated. Molly sighed and smiled again. One could not just simply hide something from Sherlock Holmes.

"No," she said. "When my argument to an autumn wedding was this quote, he said I needed a better excuse if I don't want to get married in August the sixth."

Sherlock looked at her in confusion, which has hidden the hurt of his heart dropping very efficiently. _They already set the date?_

"Why August the sixth?" he asked.

"His parents got married on that date. And his father's parents before that and _his_ father's parents before that." She sighed again. "He doesn't want to break the family tradition."

_How could someone restrain himself from breaking anything for this girl?_ he thought. _Just one word from her and I would break laws and bones!_

He stopped at the sentimental thinking and in ridiculous paranoia he looked towards her again, just in case he said it out loud or she could, because of some insane theory he couldn't think of, read his mind.

"So," she concluded. "To answer your question, it will be a summer wedding, in August next year. You're invited, of course."

"Hm," Sherlock murmured, getting back to his experiment. "Pity. If it was an autumn wedding, I'd maybe be thrilled to come."

"Will you come?" Molly asked, bitting her lip. She knew it was hard for him to accept _John's_ wedding invitation. It was probably stupid to hope he will actually show up at hers.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked and smirked at her once more, making her knees go weak, which didn't go unnoticed by him. "It would be a disaster to skip the most important day in a life of the person that counts most to me."

He stood up and picked up his coat.

"I'll be leaving now," he said. "Say hello to Bill for me, will you?"

He left before she could correct him on his (intentional) mistake. She smiled and looked around the lab, as the memories of her fantasies (the ones that had to be ignored once Tom barged into her life with a ring) of her and him together, even if just talking in a pleasant way. She could cross of the second pleasant talk with him, along with the talk about Albert Camus. But the fantasies of passionate kissing, him taking her on the lab counter, them having a romantic dinner and him jumping from through a window and kissing her before setting off stayed safe and sound at the back of her mind.

_Damn it_, she thought. _Why is it just my luck for me to be engaged just in time I start crossing off things on my fantasy list?_

* * *

Sherlock was leaving St. Bart's just in time to see Tom walking in, sending a big smile in his way instead of a hello and the world's only consulting detective couldn't help deducing him once more.

_Still has two sisters._

_Still engaged._

_Still awkward._

_Still librarian._

_Still a smoker._

_Still has two cats._

_There's still a faint smell from Molly's perfume on ..._

_Processing data ..._

_NOT Molly's perfume!_

He was quick enough to grab Tom's arm, while typing away furiously on his phone.

"I sincerely hope you're going there to break up with her," he growled in his ear. "Or you will just tell her of the affair you're having."

"Affair?" Tom stuttered, obviously scared because of the deduction.

"Molly's perfume," Sherlock explained in a quick mutter, "has always been the same. Vanilla and apples. She never changed it. It's certainly an unusual mixture of scents, but unusual enough for me to acknowledge when her _fiance_ smells like a woman and that woman is not my pathologist."

Tom's eyes widened in fear.

"I ... I ..." he tried explaining himself, but he couldn't get the words out of his mouth.

"Don't try to deny it, you stench of another woman," Sherlock growled. "So I repeat: I sincerely hope that Molly won't be wearing that ring anymore when I see her again."

He started walking away, when Tom's arm grabbed him and pulled him back.

"You really care for her, don't you?" Tom asked with bewilderment written all over his face. Sherlock didn't have enough time to compose himself and hide behind his cold mask, so Tom laughed. "Unbelievable! Sherlock Holmes likes _my_ Molly Hooper? After all you put her through? _I_ was the one to pick up the pieces when you ripped ripped her apart on that Christmas and I was the one, who was alive for two years in which I got the guts to ask her to marry me."

Sherlock glared. It was all he could do at this point.

"And as for the woman's perfume? My sister is in town and she is a hugger," Tom said, his tone getting darker. He let go of Sherlock. "I would never cheat on Molly. But then again, as far as I know, there's always something."

With that he left, walking down to the morgue so proudly, because he managed to tell off Sherlock Holmes.

_Oh, the naive bastard_, Sherlock laughed to himself. _Did he really not think I wouldn't check for that?_

He looked at his phone, which had an answer to his own doubt of his sister written all over.

_Nope. No sister._

Thank god for the homeless network.

(A/N: HOLY FUCK! Only the first three minutes satisfied all my needs of Sherlock Holmes until Lestrade, of course, ruined it! THE KISS WAS FANTASTIC! And then one engagement ring crushed all my dreams into the broke glass Sherlock broke in Anderson's version of Sherlock's survival plan -.- but there's still hope! There is NO. BLOODY. WAY that Sherlock didn't show any signs of deeper affection for Molly when they were together! The way he lingered and smiled when she pointed out how that hat guy said "carriage" instead of "cart" and how he told the she counted the most (I almost teared up when I realized those words weren't meant for when Sherlock explained John how he did it) – GAH, AND THE KISS!

Anyways, sorry for the long post, but I had to open up to someone :P and, btw, I hate Tom (which should be something every sherlolly fan would have say some time in the near future), so I'm making this fic to let you all know my version of proving he is indeed a bad guy – ooohh, I hope he will turn out to be a new villain on the series ...)


	2. Chapter 2

_"Cart?"_

_"Yes, cart, not carriage ..." Neither Molly, nor Sherlock listened to the train man's banter as they exchanged the look. She raised her eyebrows in surprise and pursed her lips in confusion. Sherlock could only smile and look at her softly, before he remembered he needed to stay focused on the case ..._

* * *

"Please tell me you're not still thinking of that bomb disaster."

Sherlock's eyes snapped open at his friend's voice and the memory faded back in the room of Molly Hooper in his mind palace. He noticed that he was smiling while thinking of Molly and their little adventure together.

"Hm? No, I'm not," he denied John's wrong deduction, before realizing that it would be safer to go on with a lie.

"Okay. What are you smiling about, then?" John asked and sat on the armchair across from him.

"Nothing of significance," Sherlock hoped John would just drop it. It was incredibly inappropriate to daydream about a soon to be married woman without having to tell anyone about it.

"Well it still made the statue move," John said. "I've never seen you smile when you're in your mind palace."

"As I said, it's not important," Sherlock said and frowned. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm getting married, Molly is getting married, Greg found someone and even Mycroft is starting to get more and more sentimental with that assistant of his," John said. Sherlock hummed in satisfaction of being remembered once again, that he was the reason of reminding Mycroft sentiment wasn't that bad. A picture of Molly walking down the aisle while he could only stand and watch, on the other hand, wasn't half as satisfactory.

"So?" he asked, trying to give an impression of being bored and uninterested.

"What I want to say is, Sherlock, that maybe it's not such a bad thing that you found someone you will be able to spend your life with ... And no, the skull doesn't count," John said and added sternly at the end as Sherlock opened his mouth to object. He closed them and frowned again.

"Well, do you see anyone I could be this well acquainted with?" he asked.

"Only one," John muttered and stood up.

"Who?" Sherlock seemed intrigued.

"Why do you care, you won't make a move anyways," John pointed out. Both of them knew it was true.

"Of course I won't, I'm just humoring you," Sherlock said. "Now, who do you think is a great match for me?"

"Someone who wouldn't be taken if you stayed alive," John shot him a meaningful look to which Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Really, John, I'm flattered, but I don't think I need to remind you, that you made it clear on several occasions that you weren't gay and ..."

"Oh, for God's sakes, Sherlock!" John cut him off. "I'm not! I didn't mean me, I meant Molly!"

"Molly?" Sherlock asked in surprise. "How is Molly a perfect match to me?"

"You mean beside the obvious?" John smirked. Sherlock furrowed his brows once again in confusion. The smirk vanished from his face as he muttered to himself, "Not so obvious after all."

He looked at the poor puzzled detective, who was looking at him with a glint of something that might as well be hope.

"Well, you both are interested in practically the same things. Biology, human's anatomy, chemistry," he started giving Sherlock examples. "And even all the things in which you aren't alike, you don't come off as strangers, but as two people who complete each other in everything the other lacks. For example, she makes up for your non-sentimental side, and you can think for the both of you."

"Don't be silly, John," Sherlock replied. "Molly is brilliant enough to be almost equal to me..."

He trailed of and blushed at his obvious mistake. He never called anyone brilliant. _Never_.

"She is, isn't she?" John's smirk only grew. "Please tell me, how did you discover that?"

Sherlock hesitated. Everything he would say at this point would be held against him. If that sentence would be taken by it's literal sense, he would gladly just say Molly.

He shook his head to get rid of the thought of Molly being close to him.

"Well, one couldn't simply have perfect results on all the pathology exams without being especially smart, could they?" Sherlock decided for the most impersonal reason. John sighed and almost gave up on his clueless friend, when he continued: "And she proved on many occasions that I wasn't wrong with choosing her to be my personal pathologist. At the times she isn't a stuttering mess I can even engage in a clever conversation with her. And seeking out the body that looked like me couldn't have been an easy task, but she figured out where it was in an instant. And she suggested the rubber ball that would prevent you from feeling my pulse."

John opened and closed his mouth several times, completely speechless of Sherlock's praising the young pathologist.

"And I may like her, not in a strictly professional way, if that's what you want to hear. She counts and she will always be the most important person to me," Sherlock said. "Now would you _please _leave me be while I think about what exactly bothers me about her boyfriend?"

John smiled widely at Sherlock's revelation of his feelings.

"Um, Sherlock?"

"What?"

"Tom is practically you," John commented. "I don't think you will find anything wrong with him unless you want to insult yourself in the progress."

"Meh, he's stupid," Sherlock waved him of. "And I don't go visiting Molly in the morgue reeking of cheap women's perfume, that Molly would never wear."

John's eyes widened. "What? Is he ... Please don't tell me he's cheating on Molly?"

"He's not," Sherlock frowned. "The smell wasn't very noticeable. He was in a company of a woman and two other men, as I deduced from the whole smell on his clothes. A lot of cigarettes were smoked on that little meeting, so I don't think it was a professional meeting he was attending."

"Maybe he met some friends at the pub?" John guessed.

"In the middle of his job?" Sherlock looked at John like he was stupid. "No, he would also stink of alcohol, but he didn't. And you can't smoke at pubs anymore."

"Right," John replied and waited for more, but it never came. Sherlock was back at his mind palace and he could only imagine what he was thinking of. The only thing he did know now, was that there was a certain pathologist on his mind when he disturbed him.

(A/N: WOW, I couldn't believe the response from you people! I got more follower than for all of the Sherlolly stories put together! You guys are awesome *internet high-five* :D hope you enjoyed it!)


	3. Chapter 3

"Sherlock Holmes!" Molly was furious as she stormed up the stairs to Sherlock's apartment. She opened the door and only focused on the bored consulting detective. "Tom told you assumed he was cheating on me! How could you? After all you said to me! How I deserved to be happy! I ..."

Someone cleared his throat and cut off her yelling at the detective.

"As much as I enjoy watching my brother being yelled at by a girl, doctor Hooper, I think I should make my excuses on behalf of all the parties that are not engaged in this conversation and leave before things get too ... heated," Mycroft Holmes said and stood up from the sofa. The older man and woman on each side of him stood up also.

"Oh, um, sorry," Molly blushed. The older woman smiled.

"Are you miss Molly Hooper we keep on hearing about?" she asked sweetly.

"Doctor Hooper," Sherlock corrected her. "She does have a medical degree."

"Of course, I apologize," the woman smiled again and offered the pathologist a hand to shake. "I am Violet Holmes. And this is my husband, Siger."

"Holmes?" Molly looked between the older couple, who shook her hand, and the brothers, who were standing awkwardly, both blushing slightly. "You're their parents?"

"That we are," Siger Holmes laughed. "Don't know where they got those genius minds, though. Because I lost a lottery ticket just last week and ..."

"Yes, yes, we heard the story," Sherlock seemed in a hurry to get them out. "Molly as I recall you wanted to speak to me. So, mother, father, Mycroft, would you mind if we continue this visit another time?"

"Oh, I am sorry for barging in like this, I can come another time," Molly stumbled over her words, ashamed that she had just broken up a Holmes' family meeting.

"Oh, don't worry, dear. I'm sure Sherlock deserves to hear every single thing you intend to scold him about," Violet Holmes laughed and hugged Molly out of the blue. "Thank you for your help in saving my son."

"It was my pleasure," Molly replied, but before she managed to hug back, the Holmes family was already out the door, saying their goodbyes.

"So ..." she started. "This is your family, huh?"

"Obviously."

"Wow," she giggled. "I can't imagine the family get-togethers."

"If there are any, it's usually boring," Sherlock dismissed her. "What did you want to talk about?"

Molly came back from her trans, caused by surprise of Sherlock's whole family, and became angry again.

"Tom told about your little talk in saint Bart's lobby," she said. "I can't believe you would just assume ..."

"I didn't assume," Sherlock cut her off. "It's a fact that was confirmed with this."

He pulled his phone from his trousers and showed the message he got the other day. Her mouth hung open.

"Who sent you this?" she asked, refusing to believe what he was saying.

"My homeless network, of course," Sherlock scoffed. "I have some of them following your beloved _Thomas_."

"You have people following my boyfriend?!" Molly exclaimed in fury.

"Fiancé, Molly, he is your fiancé," he corrected her mistake.

"And how is that important right now? You have no right!" Molly didn't give an impression of calming down.

"Because he will spend the rest of your life with you," Sherlock half mumbled, a bit embarrassed wit his reasons. He didn't know why, though. They were perfectly logical. He was just looking out for her. Not telling her of his other findings because they were irrelevant to why Tom lied to Molly.

And he was definitely NOT looking for a reason for them to break up!

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, you lost me," Molly closed her eyes, pressed a hand to her forehead and shook her head in order to calm down.

"Well, it's hardly rocket science," Sherlock started losing his patience also. "I'm simply looking after him so I am sure, the most important woman in my world doesn't promise herself to a faulted man."

Molly's look softened just as Sherlock turned to the window, so she couldn't see the blush creeping to his cheeks when he realized what he had said out loud.

"You ... you mean it?" she stuttered for the first time since his return.

"Of course I do," Sherlock found his only way out. "I also keep check of Mary Morstan. You see, you all have the misfortune of being my friends. I always make sure everything is in place."

Every single hope she should've given up so many years ago vanished from her sparkling eyes. Damn him for still playing with her heart.

"So?" Sherlock grew impatient. "Don't you want to know who Tom was meeting with behind your back? Because he wouldn't lie to you about the sister that isn't even in London."

"No," Molly answered, becoming more cold than angry. She crossed her arms on her chest. "Because I'd rather believe him than having you crush my happiness once again."

Sherlock looked at her again and she knew she saw that look before. Eyebrows slightly raised, no gleam of happiness whatsoever in his eyes, mouth slightly parted. Sad. Sherlock Holmes dared to show her sadness once again.

"Do _you_ mean that?" he asked. His magnificent voice sounded so weak from the beginning to the end of the question.

"Yes," she said. "I've been heartbroken because of you so many times I lost count. And now, once I finally moved on ..."

"You haven't."

Though it seemed like something obvious, Sherlock finally found something wrong with the picture of Molly Hooper moving on. He came closer to her, much too close for his usual comfort, but suddenly he wanted to be near her.

"You haven't moved on," he said. "Yes, maybe you're getting married, but to a tall man with dark curly hair, used to wearing a long coat and a scarf. Even his cheekbones remind me of someone I know ..."

He paused to let his semi-sarcastic words sink in. His eyes were passionately staring into hers, as she started shrinking, becoming a mouse again.

"And then there was our day of solving crimes," he continued. His aggressive tone became a heated mutter. "Just as I asked you if you'd like to become my assistant, you completed my sentence with asking me for dinner – or, rather hoping I would ask you. Of course you have not moved on yet, and so what I'm asking you is _why_?"

Molly's eyes teared up and, though one of her favorite fantasies was coming true, their lips being barely millimeters apart, she moved away and headed for the door.

"I ask myself the same question every day," she murmured loud enough only for him to hear and left him dumbfounded. Not because what she said – nothing she had to say could confuse him once he realized her true feelings –, but because he found himself trying to calm him heartbeat and shutting down any hope of her being so close to him again, so he could feel her body heat.

He slowly moved to his chair and sat down, getting into his thinking position. Why should he worry if he broke her down, when there was no hope whatsoever for them to be together at all?

_Because you just realized that there was, indeed, hope, you git!_

"Shut up," he quietly snapped at John's voice in his head.

(line break)

_Thomas spotted hanging around Big bang. Just standing in front of it, smoking a cigarettes. Again._

Sherlock furrowed his brows when he read the message from a member of his faithful homeless network. He turned to the big map he had plastered on the wall behind the sofa and drew a small _x_ on the spot Tom was seen at most recently. He stepped back and curiously looked at the seven places on the map of London Tom has been at. He had his eyes and ears across London following him since their encounter at saint Bart's and what was going on was getting more and more suspicious.

He tried connection the dots in several different ways, but it never showed any logical pattern. Even when he thought about the buildings and places he was at alone, just smoking a cigarette, there was no possible connection to any of them. So what was he doing.

_Keep an eye on him. SH_

And it wasn't very long until he added another message.

_And keep an eye on all the out of character things going on at every area. SH_

"Sherlock!" a cheerful female voice called. The tone reminded him of Molly – before she got angry of him for deducing her fiancé and decided to give him silent treatment since then – but he soon recognized Mary's voice. She smiled brightly at him as she walked through the open door.

"Guess what I'm doing here," she pressured him, but he only rolled his eyes.

"I don't guess," he stated and Mary frowned playfully.

"And you're not in your best mood, either," she commented. She glanced at the map on the wall. "Tough case?"

"Not a case," Sherlock answered her. "Just a little something to keep me from being bored."

She looked closely at the pictures beside the map.

"Isn't this the fiancé of Molly Hooper?" she asked, pointing to one of the many pictures.

"Yes."

"Are you by any chance following him?"

"How can I be following him, when I'm standing here?" Sherlock answered her with another question. "Really, Mary, I anticipated you'd be better at this. My homeless network is obviously doing that job."

"You have tramps following Molly Hooper's fiancé?" Mary smirked, even more intrigued now. John told her about his and Sherlock's little talk a few days back and had made it her mission to make him admit his feelings out loud.

"I think we already cleared that. Keep up," Sherlock said with his mind still on the Thomas case.

"Well, I think you need a break."

"I don't."

"You'll still take it, because I have something for you," Mary smiled deviously. Sherlock took a second of his precious time to finally look straight at her and saw her holding up a notebook and a pen.

_Associated to the wedding._

_No wedding planner with her – not here to discuss the wedding itself._

_New notebook – bought it for the special occasion, which is ..._

"Just because John can't hear it yet, it doesn't mean I can't help you," Mary said, assuming he already knew what she was talking about.

_Has to do about John (I'm his best man, which makes it more logical) – not about the bachelor party (Greg offered his help in this and Mary said she doesn't even want to know, where we are taking him) ..._

_Ah, the speech._

"I think I know enough about John to say something overly sentimental on the wedding," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Ad I already wrote it."

"Okay, where is it? I want to see it," Mary insisted. Sherlock just gently tapped his temple with his finger. "Oh, alright, be mysterious. Can I at least hear it?"

Sherlock sighed and rolled his every dramatically.

"John is one of my best friends and I'm glad he always found his happiness in the form of his least irritating girlfriend, with whom he chose to spend the rest of his life with ..."

"No! That's so bad!" Mary cut him of.

"I know."

"And you still don't want my help."

"Of course not."

"And why is that?"

"Because I didn't tell you my real speech," Sherlock looked at her once again. "The speech is mostly to be a surprise to both the groom and the bride and I'm not really in the mood to just give up the element of surprise."

Mary frowned. _That smug bastard_.

"Fine, I hope you know what you're doing," she said and instead of leaving, she sat down on the sofa. "You know, it's nice if you offer your guest something."

"Working," Sherlock mumbled absentmindedly. Mary sighed and stood up.

"Mind if I get myself something? Because I'm not leaving yet," she asked and headed towards the kitchen.

"Don't move anything you would find in your own body," was his way of approving her wish. Mary didn't know what exactly he meant by that, but she quickly found out, when she opened the fridge and found three pairs of eyes staring at her and a plastic bag of something that looked suspiciously like a stomach. But what really bothered her was a severed hand, placed inside in an upwards position.

"What the hell is that?" she yelled out to him.

"Welcoming present by Molly Hooper and Mike Stamford," Sherlock knew what she was talking about.

"And you kept them?" Mary couldn't believe why someone would give body parts as a present and why would the receiver of this gift keep them.

"They're for experiments," Sherlock answered her. "I'm usually able to get just one thing at the time, but Stamford was so happy I was back he let Molly to give me anything I asked for."

"So, it was Molly who gave you this?" Mary felt her lips turning upwards. "You're a little sentimental like that, aren't you?"

There was a pause before he answered.

"She is the most competent pathologist at Bart's and I trust only her," he chose his words carefully. She seemed to be coming onto him about Molly and he didn't want to give her anymore reason to do so.

"I can't imagine why," she said back, closing the fridge. She took a clean glass and poured herself a glass of water. When she returned to the living room, Sherlock was still in the same position where she left him.

"So, is there a reason for trying to build a case about Tom?" she asked with a smug expression on her face.

"He is acting very suspiciously. My connections tell me he goes to a different place of London every day since last week at exactly twelve o'clock, smoked a cigarette there and then leaves," Sherlock answered. He glanced at her and saw her wide smile. "It's not suspicious only because he's Moly's boyfriend," he clarified.

"Of course not," Mary said, sipping her water. "It's because he's her _fiancé_."

"Why are you and John so sure I have feelings for Molly?" Sherlock started to grow angry.

"John got me hooked and from then on I can't help but know everything about Sherlolly," she giggled. Sherlock looked at her disapprovingly as he analyzed the name she used.

_Sherlolly._

_Obviously a mix up of my and Molly's names. Ridiculous._

"It's not going to happen," he stated. "She's getting married."

"And you are looking for a reason to prevent that," Mary reminded him. "And I've talked to Molly a few days back. She was in her tears because you said the words that shouldn't matter to her anymore."

Sherlock looked at her and opened his eyes to defend himself and then closed them again. After a while he finally found the words to speak.

"She cried?"

_You made her cry, moron!_

This John's voice was getting more and more irritating.

"Yes," Mary said and set down her glass. "She came directly to me, because she doesn't have anyone else to talk to about this."

"She has Tom," Sherlock pointed out with disdain.

"If she told Tom what she told me, they would be breaking up in an instant," Mary answered. Sherlock's eyes shot up at her.

"What?" he asked her. "What did she say?"

"Oh, a bunch of overly sentimental stuff about you," Mary shrugged, happy she knew something more then Sherlock. "I wouldn't want to bother you about it."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Sherlock growled. Mary gasped innocently.

"Knowing more than you?" She grinned. "Of course!"

"Fine, if you don't want to tell me, you can go," Sherlock said.

"I thought you'll be more intrigued in what she had to say," Mary frowned.

"Will it change anything?"

"Maybe ..."

"Will it help get to the bottom of this?" He motioned to the map. Mary sighed.

"No."

"Then why should I care?" Mary stood up and went to the door while his cold voice rang out.

"Because you care more than you let yourself think," she said and left. Sherlock stopped for a second and watched the door of the apartment close after her.

Her statement left a big weight on his shoulders. After a quick thought about her words he discovered it was because it was true.


	4. Chapter 4

The wedding was a success in the end. Thankfully.

Sherlock Holmes walked into the night, not feeling very bad for leaving early. He did everything that was in his power to be a good best man and John assured him the day after that be making people cry he exceeded his mission.

_"We have lots of sex."_

_Damn you, Molly._

She was still mad at him, when he came to get her help, but the wedding bliss (with her bloody wedding also approaching) made her soften up a bit. And she knew he was trying hard only for John. He was sure that if he wanted help for his own experiment, she would've kicked him out.

The maid of homor was interesting, nevertheless. He felt bad for deleting her image almost immediately to make room for the memory of Molly in the yellow dress with another ridiculous bow in her hair. And he didn't miss how she stabbed Tom after he commented on Sherlock's strange behavior. He chuckled now, since he didn't have time to acknowledge it before.

And how she danced with Tom, right before he left, not minding him.

"_I was the one to pick up the pieces when you ripped her apart on that Christmas and I was the one, who was alive for two years in which I got the guts to ask her to marry me."_

Sherlock tried to dismiss Tom's words, but then he stopped and replayed them once again.

"_I was the one to pick up the pieces when you ripped her apart on that Christmas and I was the one, who was alive for two years ..._

_*pause*_

_*rewind*_

"_I was the one to pick up the pieces when you ripped her apart on that Christmas."_

_*rewind*_

_"... When you ripped her appart on that Christmas."_

_*rewind*_

_" ... On that Christmas."_

_Opening Tom's file:_

_- Molly's fiancé_

_-smoker_

_-suspicious_

_-two cats_

_NOTHING relevant!_

_..._

_Opening Molly's room:_

_File: The day of solving crimes_

_-kiss on the cheek (soft, warm, rose scented face cream ... NO, too busy to think of that!)_

_-adorable_

_-hoped to be asked to dinner_

_-carts, not carriages_

_-the scolding look, that made me apologize_

_-able to deduce something I didn't on the skeleton_

_-talk about Tom (Ah, here it is) – opening the file:_

_"He isn't from work – we met through friends and ..."_

_*pause*_

_Not from work, implying that they started dating right away – possibly a blind date. They met after the Fall, since he proposed only a few weeks before he came back (the ring is brand new)_

_Conclusion: they haven't met until last year._

_New question: How could he pick up the pieces after his accidentally hurtful deduction, when they didn't even know each other?_

Sherlock frowned. Maybe he miscalculated it somehow? There was always something, he couldn't just forget about that annoying little fact.

He started walking again, but now stepping more quickly. He needed to go home and think about this.

_Maybe Molly told him about it and then broke down crying?_ he thought of the most logical solution and shook his head furiously only a moment after. _No, he wouldn't use the words "that Christmas" if that were true._

His phone started ringing just as he was halfway to Baker street. He tried to ignore it and walked further. The phone stopped ringing and after a few seconds started again.

_I might as well apologize to John_, he thought with a sigh, knowing for sure it was his best friend who was calling him, because he couldn't see him anymore. He unlocked the phone and put it to his ear.

"Sherlock?"

He stopped dead on his tracks and his eyes widened at the sound of Molly's voice.

"Molly?"

"Are you okay?" she asked him worriedly and he frowned. He knew that ever since the fall he won't be able to lie to her when she asked him that. And he was under the impression that she knew that too.

"Why do you ask?" he wondered.

"I saw you left," she said. "I wanted to go after you, but it would leave a wrong impression ... Tom already thought something when you had your speech ..."

"Get to the point, Molly," Sherlock hurried her rambling.

"You looked sad," she said and they both paused at the familiarity of those words. "Again."

"I'm fine," he tried ending the call early.

"Sherlock," she said in a warning voice. He would be lying if he didn't find this tone attractive on her.

"It was just a bit stuffy," he explained the small part of the truth. "I needed some air."

"And decided to walk back home?" she asked.

"Shouldn't you be going back to Tom now?" he asked impatiently, hoping this talk will be over soon.

"He went to the loo." She paused. "It could be a while. He doesn't tolerate alcohol very well."

"Hm, sounds like a winner," he commented sarcastically, partly hoping that she would use her warning voice on him again. She didn't.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" she didn't let him change the topic completely. He sighed.

"Yes, I know."

"So, would you please tell me?"

"I thought you were angry with me," he tried finding excuses to end this call.

"And I thought you were more fine than you really are," she returned the remark.

"I _am_ fine!"

"No, you're not." There was another silence.

"Martha told me about her wedding and her friend who left early," she told him. "I bet she told you about it too. So, please, don't make John suffer like she does for losing her friend. Come back, before he notices you are gone."

"He hasn't noticed yet?" _And here I thought at least some observational skills rubbed of on him_, he thought.

"He and Mary disappeared in the women's bathroom a few minutes ago and frankly I'm scared to look what exactly they are doing ... Though I think I'm getting an idea." He could practically _hear_ her blush.

"Just ... come back and I will wait for you outside and we will talk, alright? Then you won't have to lie about stepping out for some fresh air," she said and Sherlock hesitated. He looked from the way he was headed to to the way he was heading from.

"I'm coming," he announced at the end.

"I'll see you at the entrance then," Molly said more cheerfully and hung up. Sherlock headed back to the party, but not before wondering how did she manage to bewitch him into obeying her requests.

* * *

As promised, Molly waited for him outside, sitting on the small staircase and holding to drinks in her hand.

"Here," she said with a comforting smile as he approached her and sat beside her. "I thought you needed something."

"Thanks," he said and mirrored her smile, though his was smaller. He took the drink and gladly tasted the whiskey on his tongue.

"I didn't know you drink this stuff," he commented and watched her drink the same brown liquid.

"I don't," she shrugged. "But my dad always liked whiskey after smoking a cigarette and I figured you smoked at least one already."

"Two," he admitted. He lit them up and finished them on the way here. He couldn't believe how well she knew him!

"You wanna talk?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"About what?"

"Sherlock ..."

He smirked at the nice warning tone.

"You sound nice like that, you know?" he said, not sure whether it was him or the alcohol talking. "Talking like a mother scolding a child."

Though the bad lighting he noticed her blush. She thanked him softly with a smile and looked at the ground.

"I didn't feel sad," he added, getting back to the main theme of the conversation. "I felt ... alone."

She looked at him, her doe eyes wide and sympathetic. He made a face.

"Don't look at me like that. I don't like people looking at me like that," he snapped.

"Sorry." She looked away from him again. "Why did you feel alone?"

"I have no idea," he chuckled softly. "I guess it felt ... lonely, watching John with Mary, that maid of honor with the guy I pointed out during my speech and you and Tom, while I was standing alone, out of place like always on those parties."

"Well, it's a shame you left," Molly hoped she could gain enough confidence to finish this sentence. And, thankfully, she did. "If you stayed, I would ask you to dance after the first song was over."

"To dance?" he stammered, wide eyed.

"I saw you enjoyed it when you danced with the maid of honor ... I-I mean, if you didn't simply enjoy her company, of course," she stuttered, feeling more and more awkward. A new, slower song started playing in the background. They listened to the muffled sound of it and when Sherlock could finally hear the rhythm, he stood up and offered Moly a hand.

"I do enjoy a good dance," he commented. "Would you do me the honors?"

She tried to suppress a smile by biting her lip, though it was highly unsuccessful, and took his hand, letting him pull her up and pull her in a close, but respectful (he was dancing with an engaged woman, after all) embrace. They slowly swayed to the song in a comfortable silence, though none of them could identify which song played. They both only thanked silently to the DJ for playing it right now, so they could enjoy the closeness of each other.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly and she looked at him confused.

"For what?" she questioned.

"For not taking up that offer of going to coffee with you three years ago," he only lifted his hand from the small of her back so he could wave it off. "It just popped into my mind, I don't know why."

"It's alright," she smiled. "I figured you would say no, anyways. The way you denied me, on the other hand, was the thing that baffled me the most."

"Believe it or not, I actually didn't understand what you meant," he chuckled, blushing. "Only later that day, when I realized you put on the lipstick for especially that moment, I concluded you were asking me out."

"The wisest mind has something yet to learn," she murmured through her giggle, as they giggled in harmony.

"George Santayana," Sherlock acknowledged with a smile. "I'm guessing you take great liking in philosophers."

"Actually it's the brilliant minds that attract me so much," she blurted out before she could stop herself. She looked down, blushing. She knew whatever she would say would make it even worse.

"And here I thought you only like me for my cheekbones," Sherlock joked. _Okay, now _that_ is really the whiskey talking_, he thought.

"Well, I won't say they aren't a positive factor for my crush, but you should really count your curls and eyes in that equation," she relaxed, knowing for sure that champagne would be a better drink to take to him. Neither he, nor she could tolerate alcohol very well. They both laughed again and didn't stop until they looked into each other's eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" he suddenly asked. She opened her mouth in shock, but before she could say anything, he continued. "Sorry. I apologize. I don't know what came over me. Perhaps I've had one drink too many."

Suddenly it dawned to him the song was over already and he moved away from her.

"No, no, it's alright," she assured him. It was silent again, but now it became awkward.

"Yes, you can," she finally heard herself say. Alcohol made her forget about Tom and the ring on her hand.

Or maybe it was her heart. She couldn't be sure anymore.

Sherlock looked at her and she could see him debating in his mind whether to do it or not.

It wasn't like he never did it again. On the contrary of everyone's belief, he kissed many women in his uni days. He liked to experiment how long the could last before they couldn't control themselves anymore.

In the end he decided he didn't give a sod about anything in the world and lounged at her, cupping her cheeks with his hands and kissing her soundly.

_Oops. This is new_, he thought as the wave of hormones and all sorts of _feelings_ rushed through his once their lips collided. He never felt that and, therefore, never expected it.

Molly slowly moved her lips against his, none of them hurrying, as all thoughts of their whereabouts and people they should be concerned about swiftly faded away. For the first time ever there was only them in their shared moment – no misunderstood invitations for dates, not fake compliments, no wrong deductions, no Moriarty and no fiancé. Just them.

At least, that's what they thought.

A slight gasp brought them back to the real world, where Molly was engaged and Sherlock didn't give in to sentiment, and woke them up from their blissful trance. The two of them turned and saw none other than John and Mary watching them. Mary's mouth hung open in shock and John was sending Sherlock a death glare.

"Enjoying yourselves?" he asked dryly. Sherlock and Molly stepped away from each other even further and looked to the ground, both blushing like lovesick teenagers caught by one of their parents. In this case, Sherlock's.

"What ..." Mary started, but shut up, not knowing how to continue. She didn't expect the timid Molly to go around kissing other men when she was engaged, but she was a little happy for Sherlock since she knew for sure he wouldn't just kiss a woman without having greater intentions behind it.

"Molly, I'm very disappointed in you," John said, sounding like a father scolding a child. "You have a _fiancé_ in there!"

"It was my fault John, I initiated it," Sherlock defended her. "And what are you two doing out here anyways?"

"We wanted to get some fresh air," May said, starting to look rather amused by the scene she and her new husband walked in on.

Sherlock gave them a quick one over. _Of course, nothing better than a walk outside after a quick shag. What are they planning to do? Make two children at once?_

"And you!" John decided to turn his anger to Sherlock. "We need to talk."

"Why don't we go back inside, Molly?" Mary said, feeling like it would be better to leave the friends argue on their own. Molly only nodded and looked longingly at Sherlock once again before following Mary and wiping her lipstick back in it's place.

"What were you _thinking_?" John hissed angrily. "And Molly Hooper of all people!"

"Well, you did say once that we would make one hell of a couple," Sherlock mentioned.

"Yes, but _not when she's engaged_!" John started to get even angrier. "Why can't you just stop playing with her like that? She finally moved on ..."

"She hasn't," Sherlock interrupted. "And there is something really wrong with her fiancé. I believe we'll have a new case by the end of the wee.."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" John asked. "There is no case! It's just Molly, who finally found her happiness and me moving away. You're afraid of being alone, Sherlock, though you have no reason to be, but please let Molly be as happy as she deserves to be."

There was an intense silence, before Sherlock let out a breath.

_Not _"Fine," he said, keeping the important part of the answer to himself. "I think I should get home. Don't want to spoil any more relationships."

"Alright," John nodded. "Will I see you before Mary and I leave for honeymoon next week?"

"Maybe I could squeeze in a case or two," Sherlock said after a quick thought and smiled. "Enjoy your _big day_, John."

John chuckled at the overly exaggerated happiness his best friend put into that sentence.

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

He went back inside and Sherlock decided that this time he would call a cab for the ride home. The kiss left him feeling more confused than ever and he couldn't waste his energy on walking if her wanted to solve it.

* * *

The cab ride to Baker Street was only long enough that he organized a new room in his mind palace, titling it _Kissing Molly_. He was surprised that there were so many things relevant to this topic that he needed a whole room for a moment that lasted for barely half a minute.

He climbed the stairs to his apartment and it didn't go past him that the door was open, even so slightly. He pushed it, so the door let him enter and as soon as he came in he saw a figure sitting elegantly in his chair and heard an all to feminine voice purring.

"Hello again, Sherlock Holmes."

(A/N: SO SORRY for the longer wait, but I had so many things to do and no time to write this! Hope I made up for it with the kiss that made even me feel all soft inside :3 Sherlock's processing data is a bit strange, I know, but I found no other way of writing it :( anyways, I hope you enjoyed it and I can assure you that in the maximum of two days I will update the next chapter, which will reveal EVERYTHING – but that doesn't mean it will be quite the end yet ;) lots of magic! Eva Rose)


	5. Chapter 5

"Miss Adler," Sherlock acknowledged the existence of the dead woman in the room.

"_Miss_ Adler?" Irene laughed seductively and stood up. "Please don't tell me we're back to formalities, Sherlock. After all that happened between us."

"You mean after you decided that your little crush was a good enough reason for putting your _career_ on the line?" Sherlock asked while rolling eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I missed you," she said and walked to him. Her eyes flicked to his lips once she was standing to close for his comfort, and she rubbed her finger across them, wiping a small stain of Molly's lipstick away. Her disappointment as evident in her voice as she continued, "Though I can see you didn't miss me at all. Tell me, what does she have, that I don't?"

"Just about every good quality you lack," Sherlock snapped and moved past her, not being able to bear being so close to her after what he'd just shared with Molly.

"Oh, but I have one she does lack," Irene answered and watched him walk further into the apartment. "I'm single."

Sherlock turned abruptly, looking at her with wide eyes. How did she know about Molly?

She laughed in satisfactory. "Did you really think you could hide it from the woman who knows more about sexual attraction than you ever will?" she asked. "And besides, she always had a type built around men who are a bit _naughty_."

"What do you know?" he questioned almost hopefully.

"Nothing," she purred innocently. "But I did come here to give you a warning. Hell is rising, Sherlock. And this time, Moriarty is literally going to be on the throne."

She laughed at her metaphor and started walking to the exit, swaying her hips seductively. But Sherlock was faster – he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She purposely pushed herself against him, in hope to tease him more.

"What do you know?" he repeated slowly.

"Things you have to realize for yourself. He doesn't like cheating," she smiled and leaned closer, so he could feel her breath on his lips.

"Well it is important for you to be here, that much is clear. You even changed your perfume," he noted.

"Your brother doesn't only have eyes and ears all over the place. He's got noses too," she said and finally moved away. "And I should be off now. I gave you more clues than you could ask for already."

She left and for once he let her. He was to occupied with the strange scent. He thought he recognized it from somewhere.

"Oh, and Sherlock?" she added once she was halfway through the door. She partly turned to him as her voice got darker. "This time, I will be the one to burn your heart out."

With that, she left and Sherlock kept standing in the middle of the living room, trying to process everything.

_"I will be the one to burn your heart out." – Moriarty reference._

_"Hell is rising." – in addition to Moriarty, the web I destroyed is pulling the strings back together._

_New perfume – surely a part of the clue, I smelt something like that before_

_Questions:_

_Who is the new leader? – only possible solution: Sebastian Moran, his right hand. He was the only one of the important members I failed to get to._

_What does the Woman have to do with it? – since she promised to burn my heart out, she probably wants revenge on me, since I betrayed her feelings for me._

_Why is Molly known to her?_

He frowned, since he found nothing logical to answer this question yet. He tried again, putting together everything in key words.

_Moriarty, web, Woman, perfume, Molly_

_Perfume ... Molly._

_TOM!_

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he pulled out the phone immediately, typing in John's number. After a few rings, John picked it up.

"Hello?" He could hear music was still in the background, so he was probably still at the party.

"The Woman was here. And yes, she is alive, but let's not focus on unimportant details," he said. "She told me the Moriarty's web is getting back together."

"What? Didn't you take them down while you were ... away?" John asked, still refusing to call his fake death what it was.

"I did, but there was one person I couldn't get to. I figured he couldn't do anything more since there was no connections left for him," Sherlock answered. "Are Molly and Tom still there?"

"Oh, no, not again," John asked. "Sherlock, no matter how jealous you are, Tom really ..."

"Remember when I told you about the perfume thing?" he asked, not caring to hear another scolding from him.

"Yes, and you said he wasn't cheating," John reminded him.

"Obviously," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "But the Woman had the same perfume on her. I could calculate the chances of it being a coincidence, but I trust you could connect the dots without it."

"Oh, my god," he heard John mutter. "He met with Irene Adler?"

"And two other men, of which someone might be Sebastian Moran," he said. "Can you spot Molly?"

"Yes, she's dancing with Greg right now," John said.

"Who?"

"Lestrade, Sherlock!"

"Fine, just don't let her go home with Tom," Sherlock told him.

"And how do I do that? They live together," John reminded him.

"Tell her I need her at the morgue for an experiment," Sherlock suggested thinking quickly.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because after the little experiment Mary and I walked in on she will be too embarrassed to meet up with you," John explained. "She might think that you would want about what happened, experiment some more on that department or that you already deleted it from your mind."

"Don't be stupid, John. I could never delete something as amazing as that," Sherlock snapped before he could think it through. John on the other end of the line chuckled.

"Wow, I really didn't expect to hear you say something as sentimental as that," he mocked him in a friendly manner.

"Back to the main topic," Sherlock gritted his teeth and was thankful they spoke on the phone so the smaller man didn't see his deep blush. "Tell her I want to talk about the kiss then."

"No," John said again. "She will be hurt because she will think you want to tell her to forget it ever happened."

"Oh, for God's sakes, what do you propose then?" Sherlock snapped.

"I'll tell her her landlord just called and her cat is dying," John suggested. "She'll have to rush to her apartment and you'll explain her everything."

"To _their _flat, John. Tom would surely go with her. Please, for the sake of this conversation, try thinking from now on," Sherlock dismissed the idea and insulted John at once. John took a deep breath in order to calm himself and not comment on the

"What about ... Hey!" John yelled and before Sherlock asked what was going on, Mary's voice was talking to him.

"What about I tell her I left my wedding night lingerie a my place and ask her to fetch it for me?" she asked. Sherlock deduced she overheard parts of their conversation, so she knew what they were trying to do. "You can wait for her in front of our flat and explain everything to her."

"Fine."

Sherlock put the phone back to his pocket and left the flat. This was going to be the most awkward conversation he was ever a part of. And he needed to explain to his mother why he pulled many hair off a girl's in his kindergarten head for an experiment – he was sure there was a gene only girls have that made it possible for them to bleed for five days straight and not die (in his defense, he was four. But he still got a good scolding from his parents and another few months of mocking from Mycroft)

* * *

"Molly, here you are!" Mary exclaimed and apologized to Greg Lestrade for taking his dance partner away. She smiled sheepishly. "I have a favor."

"What is it?" Molly asked, ready to help.

"I forgot my wedding night lingerie at home," she said, looking at the ground like she was embarrassed. "Could I bother you to go and fetch them for me? My maid of honor just disappeared somewhere."

"Why didn't you just put them on underneath the dress?" Molly asked, furrowing her brows.

"Are you kidding me? Sherlock bloody Holmes was John's best man. I really didn't need the embarrassment of him pointing out what I'm wearing underneath to my grandmother," Mary made a good enough point.

"Aha, I understand," Molly said. "Sure, I can go fetch them. But I would need the keys."

"No, you won't," Mary said too quickly. "Um, I mean, I hid at my neighbors. John spends so much time with Sherlock he would have found it all too quickly and I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Um, okay," Molly said, not believing her completely, but she decided to play along. There must have been something wrong – she knew everyone who hung out with Sherlock acted suspiciously when something was wrong. "I'll just tell Tom and we'll ..."

"NO!" Mary exclaimed in panic. "I-I mean, it would be embarrassing if a man saw it. They're kind of only meant for one guy, you know?"

"Alright," Molly nodded and made a mental note to ask her or John what was going on later. "Um, could you tell Tom I'll be back soon? I wouldn't want him to worry where I am."

"Don't worry," Mary smiled at her. "It has been taken care of. Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome," Molly smiled back sheepishly and rushed out to catch a cab on the street. Mary smiled proudly and then walked back to her husband. She let him pull her in an embrace and kissed his lips.

"You better explain yourself, mister Watson," Mary said.

"You first," John said. "Are you really not wearing the lingerie underneath the dress?"

"Oh, no, I have it on," she winked. "I just told Sherlock not to say a word about them once he pointed them out right before ceremony."

* * *

Molly walked hurriedly down the decorated path to the main street and was already putting her phone out to call a cab, when a hand caught her arm and turned her around.

"Tom!" Molly shrieked, startled by the man. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologized. "I just ... Need to talk to you."

"Can it wait?" Molly asked hopefully. "Mary asked me to get her something and I'll be right back ..."

"It's over," Tom interrupted her and she stopped talking with her mouth still open. "Between you and me. I realized we aren't meant to be."

"What?" she asked softly.

"Come on, Molly," Tom smiled a fake smile. "You like Sherlock Holmes, the great detective! Who am I to stand in your way?"

"No, don't give me that," Molly shook her head. "I'm over him!"

"Even if you are," Tom smiled again, now more like he was apologizing. "I found out through this wedding, that I don't belong with you, nor I ever will. Sorry, but I don't love you."

The last words hit her in the stomach. Hard.

"You ... you don't l-love me?" she stammered, not believing what she was hearing. _I find a great man who wasn't a psychopath, gay or a high-functioning sociopath and it turns out he doesn't love me. Of course. Because why couldn't Molly Hooper be happy for once?_

"I'm really, dreadfully sorry," he started. "I hoped we could still be friends, but I'm guessing ..."

Molly took of her ring and threw it on the pavement. While she started walking away, so she wouldn't cry, she added: "I'm going home, taking Toby and then I'm going to stay with at my mother's place. I'll come and get the rest of my things tomorrow."

When she was a block or two away, she pulled out her phone again and dialed John's number.

"Hello?"

Molly sighed to keep her trembling voice straight.

"Hi, John, it's Molly," she said. "Listen, please tell Mary something came up and I can't do what she wants me to do. Tell her to send someone else. She'll know what I'm talking about. Tell her I'm sorry."

"Okay, but what happened?" asked John.

"Nothing major," she said and tried to laugh, but failed miserably in the process. "My mother is feeling a bit under the weather, so I'm going to see her. Have a nice evening, you two."

* * *

"She's not going."

"What do you mean, she's not going?" Sherlock frowned he didn't like it one bit.

"She said her mother is sick and she's going to check on her," John told him. "But she didn't leave with Tom. I just saw him get into the cab and drive to the opposite direction."

"Fine," Sherlock said. "I guess I'll be going to her mother's flat, then."

"You know where her mother lives?"

"Please."

John rolled his eyes at his friend's arrogance.

"Why does it matter anyway? She's safe isn't she?" he asked.

"For now, yes, but she still needs to know what's going on and that she mustn't see Tom for her own safety," Sherlock said and waited for John's answer. It didn't come.

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," John said with amusement evident in his voice. "I guess it's just sweet you worry for Molly so much."

"It's not _sweet_," Sherlock spat the word out like it was a bitter medicine. "It's friendly. That's what people do, don't they? _Protect their friends_."

John shuddered at the involuntary image of Sherlock jumping of Bart's hospital to ensure the safety of his friends. _Damn him to hell_.

"You still kissed her," he argued, but Sherlock wasn't ready for that conversation yet.

"And now I have to go," Sherlock stated and hung up without another word. He headed down the stairs, not even aware of the happy smile the mere memory of the blissful kiss brought to his lips. But just as he adjusted his scarf and reached for the door knob, there was a terribly familiar doorbell ring tactic bringing him out of his train of thoughts.

_A client. Bloody hell!_

He opened the door and startled the blonde middle-aged woman standing at the door.

_Hair dye._

_Two kids._

_Very worried._

_High position in the government ..._

He took one look at the buttons of her jacket.

_Mi6._

He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Tell my brother I'm busy," he said, moving past her. "If it's an urgent matter of the national security, you can contact me in a week. I'm sure nothing will happen until then."

"I'm here on a personal matter," the woman stated as she held her chin high. Sherlock snorted.

"Then come in a month," he said, still not stopping.

"Have you ever heard of Charles Augustus Magnussen?"

Sherlock stopped in his tracks. It was like the universe decided nothing will go as planned today.

(A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! HOLY FUCKING SHIT! (pardon my language) I just watched His last vow and IT. WAS. FANTASTIC! It was my favourite episode yet! MOLLY AND TOM BROKE UP! AND SHERLOCK DIDN'T REALLY HAVE A GIRLFRIEND (actually I anticipated that his girlfriend was just for show ... And thank god that for once I was right! Though perhaps I'm a little too happy about that – but who can blame me for wanting to strangle that bitch when she was on-screen in the apartment? Only Molly shoudl be allowed doing that!) ... as you can see, there was a lot of ups and downs of my Sherlolly feels throughout the episode. But she slapped him! THREE. BLOODY. TIMES! (in my case, six, because I just had to watch it again xP) And she was all he thought about when he was dying (in case anyone missed it) – she (almost) literally saved his life! AGAIN! ... and also, despite my outburst (only you, fellow sherlolly fans understand my frustration – I could see it on my dad's and my brother's face that I was more amusing to watch than the episode itself ...) the episode has given me a great idea for following through with my story ;) I'm probably going to die because of waiting for season 4, but at least I'll have time to write without those beautiful eyes (god, they are so, so beautiful) interrupting me all of the time while deducing the shit out of people in contact with Moriarty (for whom I'm glad to see back – he was by far the best villain I've ever seen!) :P)


	6. Chapter 6

It has been a month since the wedding and one exact month since Molly has heard from Sherlock. She figured him staying out of sight was his way of saying the kiss was a mistake.

She put on her gloves to start working and already became accustomed with not having to adjust her left glove because of the ring. It made things much more easy for her. And she didn't even love Tom as much as she always loved Sherlock. Everyone could see it and her mother even congratulated her for breaking up with him – she always thought it wouldn't last.

She took out her favorite scalpel (even her coworkers thought it was creepy to have a favorite scalpel ... only Sherlock understood the fact she had grown fond of one instrument above others. It was a technique that the instrument provided, not the scalpel itself, he reasoned) and headed towards the morgue, when John stormed in, dragging Sherlock behind him.

Scratch that. He was dragging a casually dressed Sherlock Holmes with even more ruffled hair than usual. Molly was smart enough to acknowledge the pure attractiveness of this man.

She barely registered John talking to her. Something about testing something, case, moron, Sherlock ... drugs?

Molly's eyes snapped to John.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"I found Sherlock in a junkies' place. I need you to test if he's clean," John repeated himself. Without needing to say or hear anything more she took out a sample container and held it out sternly to Sherlock. When he tried to object, she glared.

"I won't ask you nicely, Sherlock. Pee," she said, not even sure where she got the confidence. Sherlock took the plastic containers with a huff and left for a second.

"Molly, where is the first aid kit?" Mary asked and Molly only then realized she was with them also. And so was a younger man, who was holding his wrist. She pointed to a cupboard wordlessly and turned to John.

"What exactly happened?" she asked. The anger she had for Sherlock died a bit while he wasn't in the room.

"I still don't know exactly," John shrugged. "Our neighbor came to me and Mary, crying and explaining how her son went to some deserted factory where they experimented with drugs. We both went there and when I went in I found our neighbor's kid and that git lying across from him."

Sherlock came back before Molly could reply and handed her his sample with immense displeasure written on his face and Molly got to work right away. It was a little harder to test his urine for drug samples as the lab was suddenly as quiet as it was before everyone came in, but the atmosphere was much more tense now.

Once she was finished she took of her gloves oblivious to Sherlock closing his eyes when he noticed in a subtle glance she wasn't wearing a ring underneath. For the first time since he took the case, he hated himself for using the drugs, knowing that since his return he finally had a shot with taking a bigger new step in his and Molly's relationship, and he blew it for the sake of his work.

"So ... is he clean?" John was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. Molly looked at him for a brief moment.

"Clean?" she repeated, but with much more venom in her voice. She walked in front of Sherlock wordlessly and her eyes locked with his for a moment, before she surprised everyone with her boldness and slapped him hard. Twice.

After a short pause, her mind raced quicker than ever and she remembered the things that happened when she last saw him. The broken engagement, because Tom thought she still loved him and the kiss.

So she slapped him again, this time on the other cheek, and signaling Sherlock the third slap had a deeper meaning than just the positive results on drugs being inside his system.

"How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with and how dare you betray the love of your friends," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "Say you're sorry!"

"I'm sorry your engagement is over," was the best answer he could come up with as he focused on the deeper meaning of the third slap rather than on the fact she caught him using drugs. "Though I'm fairly grateful for the lack of the ring."

She tensed up at the double meaning of his statement. It wasn't until a moment later, when he touched his cheek gently, that she realized he was indeed talking about the slap. The mixed feelings, which were brought up by what he said, what he did and what he didn't do or say in the past month, sent a tingly urge through her hand, demanding her to slap him again.

But she didn't three times was enough.

"Stop it," she said. "Just stop it."

His eyes dwelled on Molly as John came closer and started scolding him, but it didn't matter. Molly was angry. His Molly.

Well, not his, but now he definitely had a chance.

Wait, did he even want one?

No. At least not yet.

* * *

"I'm the only one who really knows what you're like, remember?"

It was hard to even fake a smile as he looked up at Janine in his lap.

_"You look sad. When you think he can't see you."_

No one ever saw him like Molly did. Janine only saw a role play that should have been nominated for an Oscar.

"Well, I should go," Janine announced and stood up. She walked to the door and Sherlock followed her like a good boyfriend he is (ha! He almost laughed at the thought). Janine got very close to him and he anticipated her going in for a kiss.

"Solve me a crime, Sherlock Holmes," she murmured and he closed his eyes when she pressed her lips against his. But, in his mind, he thought of Molly and only of Molly. How the skin of her cheek felt underneath his lips and how soft her small lips must be like to kiss.

_Snap out of it!_ he ordered himself when he realized Janine moved away and he opened his eyes, sending an impressively fake smile towards her. He could see John's mind exploding with confusion from the corner of his eye, while he was trying not to frown when there was no Molly next to him when he opened his eyes. Janine left and he gladly put the smile of his face.

But, all in all, it was fun to see John completely and utterly shocked. He wondered how long it would take him to find out it was just an act (though he predicted he would have to be the one to tell him) and if this would be the same reaction if it was Molly, who walked out of his bedroom.

He had to awaken every tiny bit of willpower to get Molly out of this mind (not completely, of course) and focus on the case. He was glad he spent some time with Janine at the wedding. It made it a great deal easier to convince her she sees him like no one else and that he has taken some liking and interest in her once he found out she was Mangnussen's secretary. He still felt sick for asking her to go out with him and for kissing her whenever she pleased. It was both a relief and a torture to have Molly on his mind at that time. It was nice imagining he was with Molly instead of Janine, but the painful guilt was eating him up from the inside because of the kiss he and Molly shared and the horrible thought that she _should've_ been with him this whole time.

And the fact that she wasn't engaged anymore only made matters worse.

* * *

Molly walked down the corridors of St. Bart's while nervously chewing her lip and playing with a single rose in her hand. She wasn't ashamed to admit she curled up on her bed – the same bed Sherlock slept in while he was staying with her – and cried her eyes out after John called to inform her Sherlock's been shot. And almost killed. For real this time.

She stopped in front of his door and saw Sherlock sleeping soundly. He looked paler than usual and she shivered in horror when her eyes fixated on the gauze on his body that indicated where the shot wound was.

He almost died. He _was_ clinically dead for one whole minute.

And the last time they were together she slapped him. And yelled at him.

She looked down at the rose in her hand again and wondered if it was even a good idea to enter.

_He is sleeping_, she thought. _What could happen?_

With a sigh she entered and froze as Sherlock opened his eyes as soon as the door opened.

"Molly," he greeted her with a hoarse voice. Molly awkwardly stepped forward and closed the door behind her.

"Hi," she said lamely. "I thought you were sleeping."

"Thinking," he corrected her.

"Right." She bit her lip. "I, um, brought you this."

She waved the rose in the air a little and distracted herself with finding a vase for it. She finally found it across from him and put it in, gratefully acknowledging it was already filled with water.

"I thought you won't come," Sherlock said as she turned to face him again.

"Well, I ..." With a sigh, she collected her thoughts and took a few steps forward until she reached his bed. "I wanted to apologize. You know, before someone tries to kill you again."

She cringed at the horribly timed joke, but relaxed as soon as she saw him smile weakly.

"And what do you have to apologize for?" he asked.

"The last time we saw each other, I was ..." "Angry because I violated your trust and chose to ignore every advice you gave me on overcoming my previous addictions," Sherlock cut her off and offered her another kind smile. "Thinking back, I would have probably slapped myself too."

"I still shouldn't have hit you," Molly argued. "It was wrong and I didn't want the last memory of us together be the one of me slapping you across the face."

"Molly," Sherlock groaned. "You worry too much."

"I know," Molly nodded. "But I'm sorry either way."

But the worry didn't go away, despite her desperate try to relax. He followed to where here eyes were looking and sighed when realized she was staring at the bandaged wound.

"You saved me, you know," he tried to make a conversation that would keep her mind of her guilt. And it worked. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"How so?"

"Just as I was shot, you ..." He trailed off. This topic was slowly making her more comfortable, but it made him feel much more awkward instead.

"I imagined you talking to me," he continued. "Advising me on how to survive."

Molly blankly stared at him, waiting for him to explain.

"There were other people there, of course," Sherlock continued. "Such as my brother and even _Anderson_." They both chuckled. "But you were the one who came to my mind the first. You guided me through what to do to keep alive until I still had some consciousness left."

"I ..." Molly was interrupted by a door opening. She let go of his hand, one she didn't know when she started holding, and looked up at an oddly familiar brown haired woman.

"Janine," Sherlock greeted her and Molly recognized her in an instant. It was Mary's maid of honor. The one who followed Sherlock around throughout the wedding.

"Honey," she smiled bitterly and took her eyes of the small pathologist. "How are you?"

"I-I'm sorry, wh-who ..." Molly stuttered and looked between the couple. _Are they together?_ she thought. It was the most logical reason for why she was here.

"Sorry, I should introduce myself," said the woman and smiled sweetly at the smaller woman. "I'm Janine, Sherlock's wife-to-be."

"Y-you're engaged?" Molly asked and tried to calculate how long they must've been together for this to occur.

_They only met at the wedding so at most they are together only for a month or so_, she came to a conclusion as tears started welling up in her eyes. _Unless they were together before ... Damn, there was truly never an option for him liking me, was there?_

"Of course!" exclaimed Janine with so much happiness, but the heart broken Molly didn't even realize it was forced. "Haven't you seen the papers?"

She held up a pile of papers and Molly's tears almost spilled at the sight of the headlines.

_SHAG-A-LOT HOLMES_

"I-I ... I have to go," she managed to say and almost ran out of the hospital room. The door shutting behind her muted Sherlock's weak plead for her to wait.

"Why did you do that?" he growled at Janine, who smiled bitterly.

"Let's just say it's a part of my revenge," she said and sat down on his bed and held up the newspapers.

(A/N: sorry for the long wait, but I had to study math for a really long time! I'm back now, and I have one-week holidays ahead of me, so expect quite a few chapters to come :D I know this one was a bit messy and confusing, but i needed something to get inbetween the episode His last vow ... in the next chapters I will certainly proceed with the sotry (in the most amazing way possible))


	7. Chapter 7

_Did you miss me?_

_Did you miss me?_

_Did you miss me?_

Molly was frozen in shock while her eyes was fixated on Moriarty's picture on the screen. How was this possible? He was dead! She was the one who confirmed it ...

But there was no autopsy. And the body was picked up only a few hours after he was brought to the morgue.

She put her cold hand to her forehead and one on the stomach as she started to feel sick. Was it her fault Moriarty got away?

She felt like fainting, when a phone call startled her. She took it out of her lab coat pocket and put it to her ear, half-expecting who was calling her.

"Sherlock? I ..."

"You've been a naughty girl, Miss Molly Hooper," a childlike voice, identical to the one on TV, said in her ear. Molly held her breath and tears of fear almost spilled out of her eyes.

"Who's this?" she demanded with a shaky voice.

"I know what you did!" sang the voice.

"What's going on?" she questioned further, but the call ended before she got an answer. She stared in fear at the phone in her hand. She jumped as it started ringing not a second later. She sighed in relief when she saw Sherlock's number written on the screen. She answered it quickly pushing the hurtful memory of meeting his fiancée aside.

"Sherlock?"

"Moriarty is alive. I need your help," Sherlock said flatly.

"What can I do?" she asked, debating with herself whether she should tell him about the call she just received or not.

"Be on alert, for now," Sherlock said. "If Moriarty knows that you helped me, he might try to eliminate you as a ..."

He stopped at the gasp of fear from Molly's side.

"I didn't mean it like that. Sorry," he corrected himself quickly. "What I'm trying to say is ... Be careful."

Molly smiled. She could hear the hesitation in his voice when he said those two words and only that hesitation told her he was really concerned for her safety and not for the inconvenience her death would cause for him.

"I will," she said. "And Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

She bit her lip. Should she tell him?

"You should also be careful," she said and hit her forehead with her free hand at how lame the words sounded.

"I will," Sherlock said tenderly – much more tenderly than any of them anticipated. She could hear him clear his throat and she suppressed a giggle, momentarily forgetting about the evil on the rise.

"Um, when you get the next body to the morgue and there's even the slightest sign of foul play, text me," Sherlock said. "Everything will have to be considered as a clue."

"Alright," Molly nodded. "I'll see you soon?"

"Very," Sherlock said with what she thought was a smile. "Goodbye, Molly."

"Bye."

She put the phone away and sighed. She should've told him.

* * *

Sherlock glared at the sniggering John and Mary and his amused looking brother, who were riding with him in one of Mycroft's cars down the streets of London.

"You forgot to say 'I love you', brother dear," Mycroft mocked him.

"Shut up," Sherlock snapped, putting his phone away.

"I thought you had a plan involving Molly," John spoke. "Who knew you only wanted to check up on her?"

"She helped me fake my death. If Moriarty is alive, he would have to know about it. And he doesn't make the same mistake twice," Sherlock defended himself while trying not to show any emotions.

"In other words, you're worried as hell that she might be in danger," Mary summarized what he had said and welcomed his death glare with a smile. He didn't comment, though. He turned to Mycroft.

"Do your men know anything about it yet?" he asked, changing the topic.

"I'm still waiting for an answer," Mycroft showed him the phone in his hand. "I'm dropping you off at Baker Street. When I learn something you shall be the first to know about it. It's the only excuse I have for letting you stay, so I do hope it will be effective."

"When is it not, brother dear?" Sherlock smirked as smugly as he could as the car stopped and he stepped out, followed by John and Mary.

"What now?" John asked as they stood on the street. "And this time you have no right to keep any little detail away from me."

"Don't worry, faking my death isn't an option yet. Too obvious and predictable," Sherlock knew where his friend was getting at. "Though I think you should both move to Baker Street for the time being. And don't forget to keep your guns close."

John nodded and Mary surprised him for a moment when she nodded too. Only after he remembered what occurred months ago. He was married to an assassin.

"Alright," he said and glanced at Mary's round tummy. "But Mary can't tag along. She's pregnant!"

"Good enough to stay at home with a gun in her hand in case of a break in," Sherlock said with little care. "You can stay here tonight and get the necessary stuff in the morning. The furniture is still in your old room, John. Welcome back to Baker Street."

With a smirk he opened the door and went inside, with John and Mary following him shortly after.

The game was back on.

(A/N: soo, this is actually the first chapter of a prompt I got on Tumblr from doctro-molly-hooper-holmes, but I realized not so long ago that it fits incredibly well with this story and now I have an even better thing planned for this fic :D muahahaha, I hope you enjoy the torture of waiting for the next chapter, because let me tell you, in the next chapter is when the fun begins!)


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